


Grab The Pelts

by NicoleTheHardyLover



Category: The Revenant (2016), Tom Hardy Characters
Genre: Beards, Cowboys and Indians, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Tent Sex, age gap, pelts, ree indians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleTheHardyLover/pseuds/NicoleTheHardyLover
Summary: Based on The 2015 film the revenant starring Leonardo dicaprio and tom hardy. This fic centres on tom hardys character john Fitzgerald and his relationship with a Pawnee Indian girl.





	1. Indian Invasion

**Author's Note:**

> Poster note: I don't claim to be historically correct. This is total fiction from start to finish.

"GRAB THE PELLLTS!!" Fitz shouted, his deranged voice echoing off every tree trunk surrounding their camp. Bodies were being flung around everywhere and all he could see was blood shed. 

John Fitzgerald was a fur trapper. Part of a band of men, hunting animal fur pelts in 1816. The men left poor and dutiless lives to expedite between the North/South Dakota border trading and looting the Arikara (Ree) Indian tribes and scavenging fur and hides to sell back home for a small fortune. 

The vast and inhospitable region left them on the brink of soul destroying destruction. The weather battered their bodies for months on end, the fear of death, brought closer by feral wildlife and enemy Indian attacks. But the promise of a better life for them and their families made them endure it, some with wives and children depending on their fruitful return.

On this night, The Ree Indians had descended once again, attacking the group of men sleeping in tents under the stars.  
The Americans had not been alerted by their traps or horses early enough and were under duress before they even opened their eyes.  
The pelts that surrounded them were like their children, the sole purpose of their expedition and grabbing the heavy piles of packs whilst running to save your skin was not easy. 

Fitz reached a tree and scrambled to his knees behind it. He had managed to grab his two pelts, and his rifle and he aimed it right at the cocoa skinned man pointing his bow and arrow right between his own eyes. As the native pulled back his arm, Fitz pulled his trigger. He hit first and the arrow flew upwards as the Indian descended with a thud to the ground. 

The trapper men had traded with this Indian tribe the day before. However they had ambushed them before leaving, stealing iron utensils and weapons, as well as whiskey, sugar and cloth.  
Some of the men had taken more than they were supposed to, in the form of Pawnee females, raping them in their camps and leaving them for dead without pity. That part hadn't appealed to Fitz, although most of The White men, him included saw the race as inferior, the people being ignorant savages and there for the taking, especially the women.

Tonight The arikara Indians sought their revenge rightfully in the wake of the previous day, but the shotguns were too powerful for their wooden bows and fevered redemption attempts and they were left defeated by the yank men yet again. 

When the wind could be heard whistling once more, the cold air circling around them, Fitz rose to his feet and looked around camp. Most of his fellow hunters weren't intact, and the captain was tending to the ones that seemingly were.  
The scene was a massacre, with severed body parts and blood soaked bludgeons scattered around like fallen leaves.  
Locking eyes with each other in the forest, It took the remaining men just an instant to realise that the only survivors were the 7 of them. They were the captain himself, as well as Paul Anderson, Hugh Glass and his son Hawk, Jim Bridger, Jones Henry and John Fitzgerald. 

20 fellow companions had died. 

As they took in the Scene of devastation, it was noted that the pelts were all present and the horses still tethered to the trees. The situation could've been worse and as the sun rose they packed up camp ready to move on yet again, now with a somewhat bleaker outlook.


	2. Beers and Spaniels Ears

That night they set up camp once again in a clearing and killed two deer to cook and eat over the fire. 

The looted whiskey came in handy as the men tried to cope with the after shocks of the previous night's events, whilst drowning their sorrows.  
Talk soon drifted around to family and the lives that awaited them. All but one of the men present were married, most with children.

"I met this really nice girl just before I left" said young Bridger.  
"How perk were the titties though?" Laughed the captain, tipping his head back in amusement at Bridger's reddening face.  
"You don't want no sag in the bags young lad. Enjoy em whilst your young cos when your ten year into your marriage like me, you'll chase any piece of skirt you can in search of the pert ones! My wives are like spaniel's ears god damn it!"

The men laughed hearty laughs and the sound echoed around the trees. 

After drinking themselves into oblivion, The captain briefed a plan to set out the next morning on horseback and move further north in search of beaver pelts and for tribes trading corn, beans and cloth. Inside the tents the men settled into heavy slumber, covered in pelts as the usual frost took hold.


	3. The Little Cherokee

As the sun rose and the warmth spread like treacle over the landscape, the men awoke early and ate leftover meat scraps for breakfast. The captain left to gather some firewood before they ventured onto open plain territory and Jones Henry set off down to the river to collect water for the journey. The others were busy packing or sleeping.

Fitzgerald gathered up his own belongings into his wrap and bound it around his shoulders, grabbing his pelts and setting them on top of his horse.   
His mind wandered to his home, it's open fire and sheepskin rugs. And the big pot on the stove that usually contained some steaming rabbit stew on his return.   
He salivated as he finished his task and wished the other men would hurry on up with theirs so they could head out. 

While he waited he found himself wandering. He didn't set out to take a hike but with no sign of the others and his mind on his stomach and life at home he found himself at the edge of the forest and down a sloping ravine.   
Coming to his senses, he started to climb back up it when he heard cries. It sounded high pitched like a woman and he hoped none of the Ree camps were nearby with their traps and savage attacks imminent. 

He stood still for a moment, ears alert, moving the bandana he wore away from them so he could listen closely.   
The sounds came again and he followed the direction they came from.   
Heading out onto a sharp cliff he saw a Pawnee woman strewn on the ground, legs spread eagled with a man forcing his way between them. 

This sight wasn't uncommon, and For a moment he thought about turning a blind eye, but her shrieks reverberated through him and he realised he couldn't leave her to be subjected to the dirty dogs lewd act.   
As he flung his wrap to the ground he pulled his knife from his bounded boot and pointed it in the direction of the attacker. 

He heaved the man from the girl and as he turned him he was shocked to realise it was one of his own men. 

"Jones what in the hell is you doin baiiii?" Fitz yelled, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. 

Henry Jones looked maddened   
"She was asking for it fitzy, practically begging me out here all alone with hardly any clothes on, what in the hell is your problem anyway?" He yelled back.   
The girl was scrambling at her materials and covering her modesty as best she could, blood spilling from a cut above her eye.   
"It sure as hell ain't like you haven't done the same" Henry continued.

Fitz shot a blunt force with his fist to the right side of Henry's head and knocked him out cold on the floor. That son of a bitch had'nt a clue in hell what fitz chose to do with women and the fact that he was semi right made his blood boil. 

The girl dragged herself up off the rocky cliff edge and attempted to make a run for it. She tripped over Henry's limp body and fell to the ground and Fitz grabbed her before she could rise again. She kicked out at him screaming, her nails clawing at his face and pulling his facial hair. 

He put his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries as he forced her hands behind her back. 

"You crazy bitch, I ain't here to hurt choo, I just saved your god damn dignity and probably ya'll life just then" he yelled against her, struggling to keep her still. 

He turned her around and as he cradled her, her body fighting him, her doubtful mind thinking he might do the same, he stilled her with soft shushing noises and patted her head. 

Eventually She buried her face into his shoulder and he felt her petite body release its tension as she slowed with her resistance and sagged against him heavily. 

Her hair smelt of fresh forest pine and cinnamon sticks and he wanted to keep her right there in his neck.   
He set her down and held onto her arms so she didn't run.   
Looking at her properly for the first time he saw that she was very young, as her face was line free, his gaze lowering he noticed her exposed breasts beneath her ripped tunic were plush and perky.   
He knew instantly there had been no bairns sucking on those so far, and wondered if she had ever even been used by a man before. He wondered if she had ever felt the intrusion of a hard member between her brown thighs just like she nearly had and he felt the satisfaction that the brute force of taking her would give. 

"What's your name?" He asked her as gently as he could muster.   
She looked puzzled, he realised pretty quickly that she probably didn't speak English. 

"Me Fitz", "John" he said slowly bashing his fists on his chest in gesture. 

"Yona" she managed. It means bear. Like a bear", she looked down at her barely covered body and shifted on her cut feet.

"Well Yona, I'm afraid ya'll gon' have to come with me". Fitz warned, flinging the girl over his shoulder whilst she kicked her legs.


	4. The Dying Embers

He had taken the girl back to camp and tied her to a tree with some rope. 

Then he had told his fellow men about what he had walked into and then explained to her as plain as he could that they needed to know more about her and where she had come from before her release. 

She had wailed and cried, bloody scratches becoming raised on her body, and he had spent the best part of ten minutes reassuring her that no one else would hurt her now, in terms that she seemed to understand. 

Then he had left hawk and glass tending to her with water and cloths and taken Anderson and Bridger with him to the cliff to collect The unconscious Henry.  
The captain was still hunting the firewood oblivious to the whole debacle and when he returned it was Henry tied to the tree, awake and alert now, and the pawnee girl being tended to by the men. She still had her hands and feet bound but she was being fed morsels of fish around the fire and her injuries were almost cleaned up. 

After Fitz explained the events to the captain, Henry was struck again and had been made to apologise to the girl, and then she was quizzed by him about where she had come from and why she was alone.  
She told them in broken English how the male members of her tribe had disappeared and the men quickly realised it must have been the tribe they wiped out only the other evening. They all kept quiet about it whilst exchanging uncomfortable glances.

Eventually, the captain let Henry go and he stormed off to his tent, not reappearing. Dusk was closing in by now and the captain had ordered another nights stay in the same camp. The fire was wilting, crackling noises filling the cold air and the men retired to their tents one by one to sleep off the wasted day. 

Fitzgerald was ordered to keep the girl by his side since he was the one who had found her. The captain had pulled him to one side and told him that he planned to take her back to the main camp on the border to maybe breed on her will with one of the Europeans. This was often a practice, to create half breed children of Pawnee descent and offer them as trade. The women were treated relatively well by the men there and only mated with by their own will. More often than not the women longed for a more luxurious life than the one they had been stolen from and readily accepted the offers in return for good food, shelter and company.

When they were left alone, Fitz looked at the young girl across from him. She couldn't be a day over 19, and he felt momentarily bad for his dark thoughts since he was almost 35. 

He wouldn't normally desire a girl of her appearance, her race. She was a pawnee after all and He was a white man, a racist like the rest if truth be told. 

His wife was the opposite of her, as Southern a belle as could be, blonde, pink faced and plump. And he had always liked that, pale skin to redden and something big to grab a hold of and pull deep into when the mood struck. He liked to watch her round oversized ass jiggling against him when he bent her over the garden bench as he often liked to in the summer. 

But this girl and her striking looks astonished him. Her long sleek hair was the colour of a raven and flowed all the way down to the filthy material bound around her hips. Her flat taut stomach was exposed, her hip bones jutting out and the faint trace of raven hair below them made his balls ache and his cock throb in his trousers just to look at her.

Her doe eyes were a smokey brown with long dark lashes and were avoiding his gaze, the submissive nature of her body language making the controller in him clap his hands with glee. The fact that he hadn't had any of that type of action in many weary months, made his desire all the more prominent and any thoughts of his plain wife were long forgotten.


	5. The Long Smutty One

The night drew in and after some long Conversation, Fitz felt like he had gained the girls trust enough for her to enter his tent and not worry about no funny business. 

It was cold and the tent was small. He tied the makeshift door shut and pulled most of his pelts onto the girls body as she hugged her knees. 

"Lay on down woman" he gestured to the piles of cloth meant to be used as pillows, and she gently lowered herself and pulled the pelts up to her neck.  
Fitzy got in beside her and felt her tense as his body brushed past hers.

"It's arctic weather tonight Yona" he reassured her. "And I sure as hell aint sleeping anywhere other than under my pelts, and if you don't wanna go ahead and freeze then you're gonna be pretty damn close to me tonight. We only sharing Damn body heat" 

She visibly relaxed. And closed her eyes when he did the same. 

************************************

Stirring in the quiet night, the oil lamp still burning, fitz was restless. He wasn't used to a woman laid with her back against his chest. Not lately, let alone one he could picture naked and almost taste, her smell being so good.  
He felt his cock rising under the pelts and a dash of shame flush his cheeks at his thoughts about her.

As they lay together, she stirred and he couldn't help himself. He began to move the straps of her linen tunic from her shoulders and push them downwards, exposing the soft mounds on her chest.  
Instead of jerking away from him, Yona pushed her body back so that the curve of her bum squeezed against his crotch. 

He took this as a sign she wanted him like he did her, And his pulse racing, his rough fingers traced her skin, inducing shivers down her spine at his touch. He moved them down her side, past her hip bones and around to the front of her.  
She closed her eyes again, nervous but enjoying the sensations, and she felt him turn her over and his wet lips on hers as she opened her eyes up again. 

She let him kiss her, he wasn't brutally forcing his tongue in like the other one- Henry had done, his pressure was soft and lingering and she enjoyed it. He lifted the pelts from them, exposing their bodies, the cool air enveloping her nipples making them stand on end. 

He pulled her materials down the rest of her frame, exposing her slim womanly curves, her belly button and her pubic hair. 

He licked his lips as he got up and knelt over her, removing his thick penis from his cloth briefs, and taking it in hand.  
As she watched wide eyed he began to move his hand up and down the shaft, and she concentrated on the velvet looking skin wrapped around it, seeing it move along with his hand. He picked up his pace and began to jerk himself furiously over her, never taking his eyes off her pebbled nipples below him and grunting and guffawing at his pleasure.

She suddenly sat up so that she was level with his dick, and he slowed his pace near her face. She had already had her mouth forced onto more than one of these anatomies. She had seen the pleasure on her rapists faces as her mouth clamped it and her throat took it back. She hadn't realised she would feel that she wanted to complete this act, to give a man some pleasure at her own will. But John had saved her life on that cliff and she knew she owed him the best time of his. She also knew this was all men wanted and that it was the best way to say thank you.

She took the tip of him into her mouth and suckled. Slowly, She gave him little kitten licks underneath and looked up at him whilst doing so, not ignorant to the fact that this would drive him wild.  
It did and he grabbed her head forcing her lower down his body.  
His Balls smelt musty as he pushed her face into them, unwashed and sweaty but yet she still wanted to taste them. To smell his manliness like she could already smell his pits.

Returning to his length she took him in and spread her saliva across the prominent veins jutting from him. She moved on him, her head bobbing as he knelt, just like she had been made to do so many times before. But john's hands weren't forcing her down on him, making her gag, they were toying with hair, twisting it around his fists in a fit of passion. She soon felt something stirring, his cock tensing against her tongue and he pushed her back down onto the floor of the tent roughly, and then spurted hot creamy cum in liberal amounts across her tanned belly. 

"Fuck Yargh" he said in his southern drawl. His breath catching.  
She looked innocently up at him and after he had stopped jerking, he wiped the cum from her with his sleeve, before removing his entire tunic and exposing his scarred body to her. He took off his bandanna and she saw part of his long hair was missing, exposing a bare patch of scarred tissue on his head.  
Throwing their clothes aside he pushed her thighs apart without resistance and stared at the pink glistening tissues half hidden by a sprawling of raven black curls. 

"Now I'm gonna go ahead and thank ya'll for that, little pawny" he said to her, the desire in his voice making him sound croaky. 

He knelt down to bury his face into her and suckled at her pussy lips,  
Drawing up her bud and spitting it back out. The bushiness of his beard was tickling every sensitive spot she possessed, but it was his rough and jabbing tongue in her slit that made her head spin instantly. He was dipping it inside her, teasing her, before removing it and leaving her longing for it to return. She gripped his head and pulled him further into her and when he emerged, His calloused hands, dirty from the ground parted her lips once more and she heard him growl deeply as he took her in with his eyes, and rubbed at her engorged bundle with his brow furrowed from his painful need for her. She attempted to squeeze her legs together, the ache being almost too much and the need for friction and release overwhelming. Fitz stopped her and spread them even further apart, more forcefully than she expected. 

"Now see here missy, closing up won't do ya'll any favours!" He said gruffly, pinning her legs apart with his elbows, his face still inches from her moist sex.  
"This here needs to be opened up" he explained, fingering at her opening and moving the slick juices up and down the length of it, pushing a thick digit up inside her body.  
She gasped at the intrusion, her pussy accepting him but bearing down against the pleasure at the same time. The look in his eyes at her reaction was menacing, he wanted to force his rigid cock where his fingers probed but he knew she wasn't yet ready for that without pain. And for some reason, the savage sexual nature he possessed, the one he used with his wife, was absent and all he wanted to do was make this good for this girl. 

He didn't give his own wife much choice or thought in their style of fornicating, she knew he wasn't a tender type and she often tried to avoid his advances early on in the marriage, taking his savage acts of force personal. But after a few years she had learned that if she knew what was good for her she would shut up and take his meat. And he reckoned now she even enjoyed it, biting into the bed cushions with her hands bound behind her with tight rope.  
Now and again he would play the loving husband game, usually when he first returned home and was too weary to savagely fuck. He would expect her to bathe him and place herself on top of him in the water, soaping his body up and grinding against it until he spilled into her. He gave her his seed whenever he returned but somehow and some way she never turned it into no baby! ...  
This made him resent her podgy barren ass and fuck her harder every damned time.

Pulled back into the now by the young girl's moans, he ran his hands over her stomach beneath him, imagining his juices being fertilised inside her and his cock throbbed against the material of the tent floor, releasing a trickle of his liquid desire onto it.  
She was more than ready for him, her chest and cheeks were flushed pink, her lips red from being bitten. 

John thought about how he wanted to take her and realised he would rather her take him. 

"Get on up here girl, and sit that fine lil pussy onto me" he said, patting his lap, inviting her to climb on. 

She compliantly got up, feeling self conscious naked, as he sat waiting for her, his thick cock engorged and his hand leisurely stroking it in anticipation.  
She knelt over him and he watched as she lowered herself onto his tip, manoeuvring it to her opening and rubbing it there, soaking it in her desire. Fitz groaned and ground up against her, pushing his bell end in a little bit further with each small thrust. He wasn't sure she could take him. Each time he entered her slightly, her body pushed him back out, even though her juices were spreading down her thighs and she was moaning at the feeling. She was sticky and hot and wet and he didn't know how much longer he could wait for her to sit on his full length before forcing her down onto it.  
No He couldn't wait. He wasn't going to. He grabbed a hold of her hips, gripping them to slam her down his length in one short, sharp burst. He groaned as She yelped out his name and he covered her mouth to muffle it, knowing they might awaken his men.  
Her brow was furrowed as she looked at him, and she kept on looking as he raised her by the hips and rammed her back down again viciously. She began to move more easily after the second intrusion. His big, dirty hands were stuck to her slender hips, and she rolled them in a rhythm , grinding herself onto his full length, embracing the sting she felt. 

He watched where their bodies joined, his thickness entering her tight little cunt over and over, making it visibly sore, he held her long raven hair in one hand and kept the other on her rolling hip. She was gonna make him cum far too soon for his liking this way. 

"John, Oghhh. John.....John." She was getting louder, moaning as she changed her Rhythm to bounce on him. He met her thrust for thrust the pressure building in his balls. 

"You go on and cum now little Pawnee, go head and cum why don't choo" he grunted, bucking upwards into her as hard as he could. 

He felt the muscles of her sex clenching, and he saw the hairs allover her body stand on end. Her mouth formed a perfect o as she rode him like a cattle horse, taking her very first orgasm from him with precedence. The spasms of her body on him and the milking of his cock inside her velvety tissues made Fitz fire his load into her like the bullet he shot her poor daddy with. 

When he had finished with her he laid her gently on top of the pelts. The cold seemingly impenetrable after their exertion and kissed his grizzly lips up her sweat ridden body. She giggled as he tickled her with his beard and played between her thighs, spreading out the creamy deposit of his release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more! If ya'll son of a bitches want it? Lol


End file.
